This Is the End: The Post-Apocalyptic Box Set (7 Book Collection)

by Craig DiLouie

  Something vibrated in his pocket, and then Dan’s cellphone began to ring.

  Shit, he thought.

  The tone echoed through the locker room and beyond, betraying any cover he may have had. He slipped the phone out of his pocket, hitting the silent button and looking at the faceplate.

  It was Howard placing the call.

  The footsteps in the hallway resumed, this time headed right for the locker room.

  “Dan?” Howard’s voice echoed from the hallway.

  Dan had slipped to the end of the lockers to the right of the entrance, wedging himself between the shelf and the wall. Howard had entered the doorway, and was now only ten feet away. Dan heard the sound of fabric creasing as the officer bent down to pick something up off the ground. He must have found my cellphone, he thought. It was a last resort. Perhaps if the officer found the phone, he’d think it had been left there.

  “I know you’re in here, Dan.”

  No such luck.

  Dan tightened his grip on the baton, holding the base in the crook of his elbow, clinging desperately to the smooth black handle. He looked across the room. A single stall and a urinal were in the corner opposite him. Next to them was a small shower, the curtain drawn. A single wooden bench stood in the middle of the room. There were only a few places for the senior officer to check. Soon after Howard stepped into the room, Dan’s hiding place would be revealed.

  “I don’t have time for this shit,” Howard yelled. He hit the side of the lockers, rattling the contents, sending vibrations through to the other end and into Dan’s cheek. “I tried to do you a favor, Dan, you know? For old time’s sake.”

  Dan clenched his teeth, felt his body tighten. The senior officer took a few steps forward. He was in the room now.

  “I even found your ungrateful daughter.”

  Dan had had enough.

  He leapt from his hiding spot toward the senior officer, swinging the baton sideways with all of his might. Howard turned in anticipation, blocking the blow with his left forearm, and then countered with a blow from his right fist. The punch connected with Dan’s ribcage, and he sprawled to the floor next to the wooden bench. He rolled underneath it to the other side, shards of pain running up his side like glass.

  Howard grabbed at the underside of the bench, lifting it upwards and into the air. It collapsed on its side, striking Dan on the way down. The officer’s biceps rippled under his shirt, his face twisted in anger.

  “Am I going to have to kill you myself?” he asked.

  Dan glared at him from the floor, still clutching the baton. His back was pressed against the lockers, and pain shot through his body. Howard took a step towards him, straddling the overturned bench.

  “Why are you doing this?” Dan wheezed.

  “You’ve done this to yourselves! Every last one of you!” the senior officer screamed. “You deserve it!”

  “You’re not making sense. What is it that we’ve done?”

  Howard grunted, and then reached down to grab him. Dan swung the baton forward, connecting with the senior officer’s knee. Howard cried out in pain, doubling over as his leg caved inwards.

  “Motherfucker!”

  Dan forced himself to stand, heading around the bench and towards the exit. He could hear Quinn screaming his name from down the hall.

  “I’m coming!” he shouted.

  He limped ahead, approaching the doorway. Behind him, Howard yelled in pain. Dan was at the doorway now, and he reached behind him to pull the door shut. I just might make it out of this alive, he thought.

  The door started to swing closed, then stopped with a dull thud as it struck something behind him. Shit.

  A pair of hands grabbed Dan’s shoulders, whipping him around and throwing him across the room. Dan landed on his knees, facing the shower. Howard was behind him now, pulling the curtain open and forcing his head inside. He heard the officer hit the lever, heard the brief pause of water traveling through the pipe, and then felt cold water cascading out of the showerhead and onto his face.

  Dan gasped for breath, liquid running up his nose and down his windpipe. Howard pushed him in further, grinding his face against the cement floor and drain, and the water started to puddle. He closed his eyes and pictured Julie’s face smiling down at him. Her lips were a soft pink, her eyes a radiant blue.

  Is this how I’m going to die?

  He struggled for what seemed like an eternity, arms flailing backwards, striking at Howard’s legs. The man was twice the size that he was. He was hopelessly outmatched. In the background, over the roar of the water, a noise drew him back from the depths. His daughter was still yelling his name.

  Dan pictured Quinn on her own, fighting off a slew of the creatures—succumbing to a fate worse than his own. He felt his eyes well up and tear, mixing with the water that would soon drown him, and he propelled his arms backward one last time.

  Without warning, Howard’s hands retracted and he was free. Dan rolled to the side, out of the shower, and began to spit and cough. His hair was matted across his face, his vision blurry. He wiped the water from his eyes, trying to ascertain what had happened.

  Why did he let me go?

  Three large shapes stood in the room. Dan squinted, discerning Howard’s figure among them. The other two shapes were grabbing at the senior officer, and the man had begun to scream.

  Dan slid along the back wall, his vision returning.

  Attacking Howard were two of the creatures.

  The things tore at Howard’s chest, ripping off shreds of shirt and skin. The officer was bleeding from a wound in his back, and his face was a mess of blood and fear.

  Dan began to run—past the creatures, past his former friend, out the door. The things paused as he flew by, but neither made a grab for him. Apparently, Howard was keeping them occupied.

  He slammed the locker room door shut and held the knob. From inside, he heard the senior officer shrieking in pain.

  Dan reached for his keys, fumbling for the one that fit the locker room door. When he found it, he inserted it into the keyhole, just as the knob started to turn.

  “Dan!” a voice hissed through the door.

  He stared for a moment. Howard must have somehow made it across the room, making one last play for the exit. Dan clutched the knob, listening to the sound of nails clawing at the door. He wondered briefly if the fingers belonged to the officer, or the creatures—or both.

  From down the hall, his daughter was yelling his name.

  Dan let go of the doorknob and started down the corridor towards the jail cell, leaving the door locked behind him.

  Howard felt searing pain hit his abdomen, and then his vision began to blur. He struggled to stay on his feet, but the creatures pulled him down to the floor.

  This isn’t supposed to happen, he screamed inside. I’m supposed to survive.

  He replayed the last few minutes in his mind, trying to figure out where it had all gone wrong. The creatures had come at him from the main office down the hall. He’d heard a crash—had seen them break through the door.

  But I secured this building myself! Dan would have come in through the front entrance—not the office. This place was sealed tight!

  One of the things began gouge into his throat, and he gasped for air.

  How the fuck had they gotten in? Did someone let them inside?

  Howard struggled to break free, but the creatures had him locked in their grip. His stomach felt hot and wet. He looked down in horror to find it had been ripped open. His intestines started to spill from his gut, and he collapsed to the ground. He felt his strength start to fade.

  The Agent leaders, he thought. Would they have betrayed me? They’d told him to return to the station. They’d known he would be here.

 
His memory flitted back to one of his first conversations with them, almost six years ago. The words came slowly, and he fought to remember through the pain.

  “Each one of you has a purpose. To ensure that the plan is successful, you must do what is instructed of you. Nothing more.”

  Maybe his purpose had been served.

  He felt his phone buzz in his pocket. They must be calling him now—checking in on him. Making sure I’m dead…

  The warm feeling in his stomach started to grow cold, and Howard felt his consciousness start to slip. How could they do this to me?

  “I did everything you asked,” he whispered.

  The creatures looked up at him, their eyes rabid, and then continued to tear him apart.

  18

  THREE DAYS HAD PASSED SINCE Julie’s death.

  Quinn lay curled up in a ball at Dan’s feet. Although the house had two bedrooms, she refused to sleep in them. She’d insisted on sleeping on the living room floor, in the center of the house, just a few feet from her father.

  Dan smiled grimly at her, watching her chest rise and fall. In the distance, he heard a long scream—whether it was from a human or one of the creatures, he wasn’t sure. He stared across the room, to a pile of guns and ammunition that he had raided from the police station. It was nighttime, and he didn’t dare go outside to investigate. Even in the daytime, such firepower did little to quell his nerves.

  It had been Quinn’s suggestion to stay here—and in hindsight, a damn good one.

  Howard’s home was equipped with steel doors on either side. Each had a quarter-inch metal bar that fit snugly into threaded supports along the frame. The windows contained thick metal borders, and each was made of bulletproof glass. The officer had stockpiled food throughout the house. The second bedroom contained three shelves full of dry goods, and the basement contained several freezers and refrigerators. The man had been prepared for what happened.

  Since arriving, Dan had rummaged through the whole house, searching for clues as to what was happening. In the process, he had uncovered several garbage bags full of unused groceries in the trashcan out back. He had quickly identified a pattern.

  All the new food had been purchased in the last two weeks. Everything else had been discarded.

  Whatever was happening to St. Matthews seemed to be connected to the food and water supply. So far, Dan and Quinn hadn’t been affected, but he wondered if it was a matter of time.

  After their arrival, Dan had ventured outside three times, but close calls with the creatures had sent him back into the house in a hurry. He hadn’t seen any signs of other survivors. The power was still on, but he wasn’t sure how long it would last.

  He had warned Quinn to stay away from the windows. In fact, they had kept the blinds closed throughout the house to avoid being seen by the creatures. A few times, they had watched some of the things hunting around the neighborhood, creeping in corners and sliding along walls. Dan had located a pair of binoculars in one of the drawers, and he studied the creature’s movements with growing dread. If they had been infected with some disease, they showed no signs of slowing down.

  Dan stood up from the couch, tiptoeing past his sleeping daughter, and parted the living room blinds. The night was still. There were only a few other houses on the street, and their lights remained off. He hadn’t seen a hint of movement inside them for the past few days. He felt a pang of guilt that he hadn’t checked all of them, but he couldn’t bear the thought of leaving his daughter alone. He had already lost her once.

  Dan thought back to what Quinn had told him— about the text message she had seen on Howard’s phone.

  Every last one must go.

  Somewhere, others knew what was coming, as well. They had planned this. The thought made him sick to his stomach. Dan heard his daughter stir from behind him. He let go of the blinds and returned to her side.

  Breakfast was jelly on bread, untoasted, and a bowl of Cheerios in milk. Dan had been avoiding the oven and the toaster, afraid that the smells might draw the attention of the creatures. The milk in Howard’s fridge hadn’t yet expired. It made sense to use it up. They had enough food in the house to last for a while, but he knew they couldn’t stay there forever.

  Sooner or later, they’d need to make their escape.

  Howard didn’t have a phone in the house. On his few journeys out, Dan had tried to call for help—using both landlines and his cellphone. Not a single call had gone through. It was as if the whole world was dead. Try as he might, he was unable to push the awful thought from his mind.

  Quinn sat across from him at the kitchen table, her mouth full of Cheerios. For a split second, Dan felt a sense of normalcy, as if today could have been any other day, as if she would soon head off to school and he to work.

  “Are we going to put more food in the car, Daddy?”

  “Yes, I think that’s a good idea,” he said.

  Over the past few days, they had been transferring food from Howard’s house to the Outback. Dan wanted to stock it up in case they had to leave suddenly. Each time, he had filled a small cooler—enough to carry with one hand, but not enough to prevent him from carrying his gun in the other—and moved its contents into the vehicle. Quinn would keep watch out the windows, the door locked behind her, until he returned.

  So far, they hadn’t run into any trouble, but Dan knew that their luck could change at any minute. Which was why they needed to leave St. Matthews. It wasn’t safe here. He held out hope that somewhere beyond the White Mountains, things were better. That he could provide safety for his daughter.

  That he could come to terms with his wife’s death.

  In the chaos and insanity, Dan hadn’t had time to accept the reality of Julie’s passing. Hell—he hadn’t even been given a chance to grieve. There had been little discussion of returning home. It wasn’t safe, and he didn’t want Quinn to see her mother’s body. The girl had been through enough.

  Quinn gulped down the last bite of her Cheerios, and tilted the bowl to drink the milk from the bottom. At home, Julie would have told her to mind her manners. Now, Dan let out a guarded smile.

  “Good to the last drop, huh?”

  She nodded. Quinn stood, bowl in hand, and headed towards the sink. She rinsed the bowl quietly and then placed it on the counter. The spoon fell from her grip, and pinged off the basin below.

  “Shhhh…” he warned.

  “I know, Daddy,” she returned.

  She reached over to the window above the sink and parted the blinds.

  “I wish we could go outside,” she said. “It seems like such a beautiful day.”

  A ray of sunshine cleared the countertop and hit the floor. Dan followed it back up to the window, still smiling.

  He bolted upright in his chair.

  One of the creatures was pressing its face against the pane, eyes glazed and overcast. It rapped at the glass with its knuckles, feeling for a way in. Quinn stifled a scream.

  They had been discovered.

  Dan made a run for the living room to the pile of weapons. He grabbed a pistol, and then dashed for the front blinds. He peered outside, looking for signs of movement. The road was empty, the houses across the street undisturbed. The Outback sat in the driveway. There was no sign of the thing from the backyard.

  But he was sure it would make its way around eventually.

  Quinn stood behind him, holding the back of his shirt.

  “I’m sorry, Daddy,” she whispered.

  “It’s not your fault, Quinn,” he said.

  And he meant it. None of it was. Not one single thing.

  “Get the cooler ready. Pack it as full as you can,” he instructed. “And bring it back to the living room. Stay clear of the blinds.”

  She nodded and started upstairs. Dan followed the win
dows one by one to the back of the house, scanning for the intruder. He finally found it, hovering by the side of the house. It looked up at him through the glass, seeming to sense his presence. Its teeth were caked with yellow and red, its skin a dull gray. It reached up towards him and groped at the window. He dropped the blinds. With only one creature outside, they should still be safe. They’d wait it out until the thing lost interest. It shouldn’t be able to get inside.

  He heard a bang from upstairs.

  “Are you all right up there?” he called.

  “Yes, Dad. I’m almost done.”

  He made his way back to the living room. A black tote bag lay on the floor next to the weapons. He began to fill it with as much as he could carry: ammunition, guns, and batons, as well as a bulletproof vest. When he finished, he lifted the bag and deposited it near the front door. It was best to be prepared. He returned to the windows.

  This time Dan did a double take. A horde of creatures was making its way down the road, headed in their direction. Arms and legs swayed back and forth, heads bobbed, and limbs tangled as they moved in one mass. Although he was unable to count them all, he guessed there were at least twenty of the things.

  He sucked in a breath, envisioning their lives in the days to come. They could hide in the house for while, living off the food that Howard had left. Wait for help to arrive. But what if the creatures kept coming, and what if they found a way in? And more importantly, what if no help came? Try as he might, Dan couldn’t help but envision the house as their tomb.

  He couldn’t allow that to happen.

  He needed to get his daughter to safety, no matter what it took. This might be their last chance at escape.

  “Quinn, it’s time!” he yelled, trying his best to sound calm.